


A Beautiful Distraction

by Ralkana



Series: Xs and Os ~ Kissing Meme and Cuddle Meme Fics [1]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Couch Cuddles, Cuddling & Snuggling, Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, M/M, Sleepy Cuddles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-02
Updated: 2014-03-02
Packaged: 2018-01-14 06:54:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 977
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1256995
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ralkana/pseuds/Ralkana
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Phil is trying to get some work done. Clint has other plans.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Beautiful Distraction

**Author's Note:**

  * For [AlyKat](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlyKat/gifts).



> Disclaimer ~ Marvel's toys, not mine. I'm just playing with them.
> 
> For Aly, who asked for couch cuddles and sleep cuddles. Written for the tumblr cuddle meme, and first posted [here](http://ralkana.tumblr.com/post/73487466363/bounces-excitedly-sleep-and-couch-cuddling-at-the).

 

Phil glanced up as Clint came ambling out of the bedroom.

"Are those my pants?" he asked, spying the familiar red, white, and blue shield on the hip of the grey sweatpants Clint was wearing. Clint grinned sleepily as he scrubbed a hand through his hair, throwing his already impressive case of bedhead even further into disarray.

"Please," Clint protested, voice raspy with sleep. "You’re just jealous that I look better in them than you do."

Phil couldn’t really argue with that. Clint wore the sweats and nothing more, showing off the impressive musculature of his arms, chest, and abs. The pants were a size too big for him and sat dangerously low on his hips, baring his hipbones and a hint of the dark thatch of curls below his flat belly to Phil’s gaze.

All that gorgeous flesh on display rippled as Clint shifted on his feet, and Phil glanced up to see Clint grinning at catching him staring.

Putting an extra swagger in his step, Clint turned and walked into the kitchen, and Phil would’ve rolled his eyes, but the view was too good to miss.

His eyes followed the strong muscles of Clint’s back down to the curve of his perfect ass peeking out of the waistband of Phil’s sweatpants, and Phil’s mouth watered. Something primal stirred within him, and he barely resisted the urge to follow Clint and put his mark all over all that skin, find a way to tell the world to back off, it all belonged to Phil.

Clint had disappeared into the kitchen now, and Phil heard the sounds of him getting a glass out of the cupboard and pouring himself a glass of water. He was still hidden from view, but it was easy to imagine the way he drank it, the long lines of his torso on display, head tipped back, throat moving as he swallowed.

Phil shifted on the couch and cleared his throat, trying to refocus on the report he was reading on his tablet. After a moment, Clint came back out of the kitchen, and Phil glanced up again.

"Going back to bed?" he asked.

Instead of answering, Clint crossed the room toward the couch, but rather than sitting on the other end and grabbing his own tablet or sprawling on the floor with the remote, he lay on the couch with his head toward Phil and his feet hanging over the opposite arm.

He wiggled and squirmed, head butting against Phil’s arm until Phil lifted it so Clint could rest his head in Phil’s lap. Attention still mostly on his tablet, Phil lowered his arm again so that it rested over Clint’s bare chest, idly stroking the warm skin under his fingers.

"Want the remote?" he asked absently, and Clint hummed a negative, subtly leaning into Phil’s touch. His hum shifted down into something like a happy purr, and Phil chuckled.

When Phil, still absorbed in his work, got too distracted and his hand stopped moving, Clint shifted under it, nudging wordlessly at Phil’s arm until it started moving again. It happened several more times, effectively keeping Phil from concentrating on his work, which he eventually realized was Clint’s intent.

He laughed and glanced down into Clint’s face. His eyes were closed, long lashes lying on his cheeks, face calm and lax. He was more asleep than awake.

"You know, when I was little, my mom had a cat that did the same thing," he told Clint, who opened his eyes to look up at Phil, a mischievous grin tugging at his lips.

"She’d be sitting there," Phil continued, "Reading or working on something, and the damn thing would wander up and just generally annoy her until she put down whatever she was doing and focused all her attention on him. "

Clint’s grin slid into a manufactured pout, and Phil snorted.

"He’d usually bite the hell out of anyone other than her who tried to touch him, too," Phil said, and Clint laughed. The happy sound sent a bloom of affection through Phil.

"Sounds about right," Clint murmured. He nudged Phil’s arm with his chin again, until Phil started petting him once more.

Phil realized suddenly how tired he was. He’d been staring at the screen of his tablet for hours, and his eyes were fatigued, his head aching vaguely.

Clint had seen it, Phil knew now, and had taken it upon himself to get Phil to stop working for the night. He’d done it in a way that wasn’t nagging and didn’t risk an absent rejection in favor of Phil’s work.

Phil looked down into his happy eyes again and smiled, watching as Clint’s eyes softened and he smiled back. Phil bent somewhat awkwardly to press a kiss to Clint’s smiling lips, and then saved his work and turned off his tablet, setting it on the end table.

"Coming to bed?" Clint asked softly.

"Not just yet," Phil answered as he snapped off the lamp and sent the room into darkness. He shifted on the couch until he lay flat, a throw pillow under his head. Clint was draped over him, half on top of him, their legs tangled together.

Clint burrowed in more comfortably, resting his face in the curve of Phil’s neck. He threw an arm over Phil’s chest and hugged him closer.

"We’re going to regret this later," Clint told him, and Phil jumped as Clint’s warm breath tickled the sensitive skin of his neck.

"Probably," Phil agreed. He’d wake up hot and sweaty, neck aching from the angle of his head, limbs tingling or deadened from the solid, sleepy weight of Clint on top of him. "Don’t care."

Clint chuckled and nuzzled closer, and then they were silent. Lulled by the sound of Clint’s steady, even breathing and the rain on the windows, Phil slipped softly into sleep.


End file.
